


this is how you know you're in love

by pfaerie



Series: just gotta speak honestly [1]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Denial of Feelings, Falling In Love, M/M, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-27 15:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pfaerie/pseuds/pfaerie
Summary: He’s been ignoring this dull ache since he met him. If he could make it hurt anywhere else - his arms, his legs, his stomach - then the ache would go away. It was enough at first, or maybe it wasn’t. Alex doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t know what he wants.





	1. Year 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally romanced Alex, y'all. (I made a few tweaks because you always notice something after you post, right?)

**Day 14 of Spring, Saturday**

Alex is the fourth newest resident of Pelican Town. The town doctor, Harvey, is the third; Shane and Jas are the second (they count as one since they moved in at the same time); and the new guy who moved into Rosewood Farm two weeks ago is first. Oh, and there's Leah, too. And Elliot. So maybe he's actually the sixth. Possibly? Math aside, the farm has only been empty for three years, but it’s been in bad shape for longer. Alex and Haley used to sneak onto the property at night when Ben was asleep, just for the thrill of being somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. It was fun for a while, until Haley started wearing heels and kept sinking into the dirt.

The first thing Alex notices about the newest resident of Pelican Town is that he carries an honest to Yoba sword. It’s plated with shiny silver, the hilt is wrapped in black leather, and it seems far too heavy for even Alex to wield - not that he'd admit that out loud. It's old, too, like maybe Ben left it behind as an heirloom. Or maybe he brought it with him from the city. Alex ignores it and asks, “Are you trying to steal my dog?”

He’s leaning so far over the fence that he’s about to tumble into it. One arm is outstretched towards the cardboard box where a 14-year-old Great Dane is snoozing, and the other arm is braced against the splintering wood. The farmer turns his head, but doesn’t bother straightening up before saying, “Who, me?” as if Alex could be talking to anyone else.

“Yes, you.”

“I didn’t know it was a dog.”

“There’s a sign.”

“Anyone can make a sign. I’m supposed to just trust a sign? I’m not an idiot.” He makes a nervous sound in the back of his throat, something kind of like a laugh, like he knows Alex very much thinks he’s an idiot because there is, in fact, a dog in the pen and they both know this. The farmer slumps forward and pushes off the fence. “I mean, obviously I know it’s a dog now,” he explains, brushing dust off his jeans. “That’s why I have the treat.”

“Okay,” Alex says. He's unsure of where to even start with that, so they stand there, awkwardly staring at each other for a few painful seconds.

“Sorry. I’m Nym." He extends his hand. "And I wasn’t trying to steal your dog.” When he smiles, Alex notices he has dimples, shallow ones, but dimples nevertheless.

“Alex.”

Nym’s hand is covered in dirt and crumbs that stick to Alex’s sweaty palms. When they separate, they both wipe their hands on their clothes as politely as possible. This is the part where one of them are supposed to comment on the weather or talk about the game. This was easier in high school, the whole talking to new people thing. Now he feels out of practice and out of words. He cycles through anything to say and discards them just as quickly before blurting, “So what’s with the sword?”

“That is strictly a third date topic,” Nym says. Alex is about to apologize when he adds, “The dude in the guildhall made it sound like everyone has one.”

“I have a bat,” Alex says. “But I don’t carry it around.”

Nym laughs, loud and a little obnoxious, like he never learned how to keep his voice down. It makes Alex smile, too, and he kinda likes that.

“Maybe you should start. I'll feel a little less stupid," he says. Then he takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders. "With that, I’m off. See you around, Alex,” and then he leaves like he didn’t just throw Alex’s entire day off kilter.

**Day 13 of Summer, Saturday**

The sun is blazing, and the cloudless sky is the definition of blue. Beads of sweat evaporate off his forehead and chest before they get the chance to roll off him. Heat radiates from every direction, but every so often a cool breeze rolls off the ocean. Every time a wave breaks on the shore, another cotton ball is added to Alex's head and dampens the world a little more. He feels like he's in an oven, but he likes it like this. He has the beach to himself for a few hours, time to zone out and no think about anything but the up and down motion of his gridball as he throws it.

Alex likes not being able to think.

He tips his head back and stretches in time to see a figure strolling up the beach. Haley’s not due for another hour, and Elliot has either already left his cabin or is still inside - Alex can never remember what he does all day.

“Oh, hey, Farmboy,” Alex says, tossing the gridball backwards. “Catch.” Nym doesn’t catch it. Instead, the ball bounces off the tips of his fingers and lands even further away. Alex rolls onto his belly and says, “Nice try.”

“You’re looking at the guy they named Butterfingers after,” Nym says proudly. “Though, you shouldn’t throw things at people holding boxes.”

“I didn’t know you had a box. Sorry.”

It's no bigger than his gridball and wrapped in green paper. Nym hands it to him. “Granny told me it was your birthday.” 

Alex reluctantly pushes himself up and spins so he's facing the water. The sweat on his back feels cold all of a sudden. Alex wishes he could say it’s because of the gift, but Nym seems to have this effect on him, gift or no gift. He either feels too cold or too hot, always uncomfortable. He tells himself it’s nothing and focuses on the sound of the ocean, lets it muffle everything as he rips off the paper and opens the flaps.

“This is cool. Thanks,” he says, hooking his index finger in the handle of maple syrup. “Grandpa prefers the real stuff, so this is cool.”

“Cool,” Nym repeats, sitting down next to him. He grabs a handful of sand and lets it trickle through the gaps between his fingers. His index finger, pinky, and thumb have bandages on them. Alex assumes they’re blisters, but he doesn’t ask for confirmation.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he defaults to the only thing he does like to think about. “I’m going pro, you know.”

“Really?”

“If I train hard enough, I know I'll be on the Tunnelers’ roster next season.”

Nym doesn't say anything for a few seconds. He grabs another handful of sand, but this time he dumps it on Alex’s jeans. “When you're famous, will you endorse my farm? I could use the cash.” Alex snorts and shoves Nym, not too hard, but hard enough he tips to the side.

"Don't be a jerk."

"I'm serious! I really hope you make it, Alex. I'm rooting for you.”

“Thanks.”

Something in him swells, something deep in his chest, and it’s almost suffocating, but in a good way. They sit in silence for a few minutes, just basking in the warmth of the sun. Alex thinks this isn’t so bad, that he doesn't really mind Nym butting in on his time alone. He only half hears Nym say something about meeting up with Willy. He stands up, says “happy birthday” again, and smiles so wide Alex can see his dimples. The maple syrup is a cool weight on his hip when he lay back.

**Day 23 of Summer, Tuesday**

They were supposed to go to the beach today. No, actually, they were supposed to go two days ago, but an unexpected storm rolled into the valley and refuses to leave. This is the part of summer Alex hates, and not just because it means fall is right around the corner. The thunder isn’t so bad, and the sound of rain pelting the roof at night is nice, but it comes with leaky roofs, slippery mud, and too much time spent cramped in the house.

Alex is lying on the floor for the third day in a row, absentmindedly lifting weights in time with the water dripping into the bucket in the corner of his room. His mind wanders, inevitably, and he's thinking.

He thinks about his mom and how much he misses her. He thinks about his dad and how little he misses him. He thinks about what it means if he's right - that no matter how hard he works, he'll never amount to anything, he'll be stuck in Stardew Valley for the rest of his life, and he’ll stagnate and become just as bitter and hateful as his old man.

Those are old thoughts, though. Ones Alex has memorized and thought over and over and over that there's nothing left of them. It's all white noise.

The troubling thoughts are the ones about Nym. The sheer number of thoughts Alex has about Nym are even more troubling than the thoughts themselves. He thinks he shouldn't be thinking so much about him, but calling attention to it makes him think about Nym even more and -

Alex drops his weights, frustrated. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and tries to empty his head, just tries to stop thinking altogether by rubbing stars and patterns into his eyelids - wonders if there's a word for that - until he hears a pounding at the front door.

There's a commotion, muffled by Alex’s door, and then Evelyn laughs. Alex turns his head and stares at the poster, an action shot of Ricky Martinez, on his door. Nobody calls for him, so he doesn't move. The floorboards creak as someone makes their way down the hall, and Alex braces himself for whatever request his grandma has for him.

But it’s not Evelyn that comes into his room. Nym saunters in, sopping wet with the biggest towel - one of Alex’s beach towels - secured around his shoulders. He’s shivering, but says, “Hey there,” warmly. “It would have been rude to cancel again,” Nym explains. “I figured we could still hang out.”

Alex gets to his feet, and all the blood rushes to his head. He shakes it off quickly and asks, “Do you need some dry clothes?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Try not to drip everywhere.”

“I make no promises,” Nym laughs. Alex spins around and digs in his dresser. They aren’t even close to the same size, but he thinks he has an old pair of sweatpants that are a size too small. Alex finds them in the middle drawer, buried under jeans and gym shorts. He grabs a shirt at random because it doesn’t matter if that’s too big.

Nym already has his jeans off, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, and is in the process of peeling off his wet shirt when Alex turns around. He’s only been a resident of Pelican Town for half a year, but he’s already sporting a farmer’s tan. Alex tries not to stare, but Nym is hilariously pale. The shirt lands on the floor with a wet slap, and Nym crosses his arms before shivering again.

He seems to know what Alex is thinking because he says, “I was hoping to even this out today.”

“You look ridiculous. Here.”

He tosses the dry clothes at Nym and turns around so he can maintain some modesty while he dresses. It occurs to him that this is first time Nym has been in his room. He’s not exactly embarrassed, but the gridball wallpaper and posters suddenly feel a little childish. On top of that, dirty clothes and books litter the floor, and he has work-out equipment scattered everywhere. He wishes he’d tidied up.

“Sorry,” Alex says because it feels like he should apologize. “There isn’t much to do here when it rains.” He glances over his shoulder to see Nym pulling on the shirt.

“Nonsense. We can flip through,” Nym plucks a book off the shelf at random and reads the cover, _“Pro Gridball Season 44: Stats and Standings._ Wow. That’s a page-turner. Not as good as _Season 43,_ but I’m not picky.”

Alex squints. “That was a great season for Sanders.”

Nym shoves the book on the shelf and scans the other titles. He doesn’t find anything on the first or second shelf, so he bends over to search the third shelf. His shirt rides up and exposes the small of his back. Alex doesn’t stare, really, he doesn’t, but Nym has dimples there, too.

“Do you have _anything_ good?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t read anything there.”

Nym snorts and pulls something off the fourth shelf. “So you can’t tell me if this issue of _Mega Muscles Magazine_ has that dude in the rhinestone dragon vest? And don’t tell me you buy these for the articles, Alex.”

He only gets the chance to flip through a few pages before Alex squats next to him and snatches it out of his hands. “I _do_ buy it for the articles.” He juts out his bottom lip to scowl, but it feels more like a pout.

“‘7 Ways To Up Your Protein Intake.’ Really? You need tips on how to eat more?”

“Clearly you need these tips.” Alex punctuates his sentence by stabbing a finger at Nym’s stomach.

“You sound like your grandma,” Nym huffs, batting Alex’s hand away. He looks at the shelf again. “You pick a book, then.”

Alex scoots closer into Nym’s space. He tells himself it’s to get a better view of the shelf. Books on mythology, physics, and astronomy intermingle with magazines and self-help guides. Alex has only skimmed a handful of them. None of them are particularly interesting, and all of the topics are intimidating. He picks a book at random.

“Interesting choice,” Nym says.

“If we get through it, maybe we can get dinner and discuss this phi-lo-so-phy stuff like you smart people do,” Alex suggests. The book’s spine crackles when he opens it to a page about moral realism.

Nym laughs, raspy and loud and a little obnoxious. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Something tickles at the back of Alex’s throat, and he’s feeling restless. He fidgets with the magazine in his lap, and one of the glossy pages sticks to his sweaty palm. Nym’s eyes are on him, heavy and expecting. Alex knows this without even looking at him. He punches Nym’s shoulder in an effort to get some space between them.

“You wish, Farmboy.”

Nym smiles and turns his attention back to the bookshelf. Alex thinks he’s said something wrong, or at least something Nym didn’t want to hear, because he keeps the conversation superficial until Evelyn calls them for lunch.

**Day 28 of Summer, Sunday**

Alex has seen the Moonlight Jellies twelve times. He goes because his grandparents go, and they go because the whole town goes. It’s tradition.

He walks Haley to the beach because that’s tradition, too. He tells her to grab her camera, but as usual, she doesn’t realize she’s left it on the coffee table until her toes touch the sand. “Next year,” she assures him, “Next year, I’ll remember it.” Alex doesn’t tell her she says that every year.

There's no official buffet, but Marnie brings stuff for s'mores and Jodi brings hot dogs and every condiment Alex knows of. Shane keeps an eye on the fire while Jas and Vincent roast marshmallows. Alex doesn't know why his stomach is twisting into knots, but he's not about to add sugar to the mix no matter how much he loves setting them on fire. Haley rolls her eyes when he settles on two hot dogs, burned to a crisp, with a little bit of everything. 

He means to wait for her, really he does, but a line starts forming behind him so he makes his way towards the dock while Haley gets a slice of cake. A trail of candles lights his way, and the sand shifts underfoot with every step. Some ketchup drips down his left hand. His usual spot is still empty, but he doesn't sit down right away. Instead, he leans against a post and starts eating the messier of his two hot dogs. Nym sits closer to the end, feet dangling off the edge as he stares at the water. He chews off three fingernails before Alex takes pity on him. He hasn't seen Nym at any of the events so far, not the Flower Dance or the Egg Festival in spring. 

“Hey,” Alex says, his mouth still full. The dock is a little damp when he sits, but he doesn’t mind if the seat of his pants gets wet.

Nym doesn't look away from the water. “Hey.”

“Hungry?”

“I ate before I came.”

Alex shrugs and shoves the rest of the first hot dog into his mouth. Some relish drips onto his jacket. “So,” he says before swallowing. He didn’t quite finish chewing and it goes down rough. He beats on his chest a few times to help it down. “First time seeing the jellies?” He wishes he had a drink right now.

“I saw them once, like, sixteen years ago? I was just a kid.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Alex thinks maybe he should have left Nym alone, that it was rude of him to assume he needed the company. Maybe he never comes to these things because he doesn't like being around people. He hears snippets of conversation buzzing around him, and it makes him more aware of how quiet Nym is right now. He thinks it has something to do with Tuesday, but then Nym says, “It’s weird seeing them without my grandpa.”

That’s not exactly comforting, but it eases Alex’s nerves to know Nym doesn’t hate him.

“I thought you came with Haley.” He finally tears his gaze away from the water to look at Alex, and it makes him feel warm despite the cool night air. Ribbons of blue streak across Nym’s face.

“I didn’t come with anyone.”

“My grandpa,” Nym starts. He takes a deep breath and holds it for a second, staring at the water again. “He said it was always better seeing the jellies with someone.”

“Yeah?”

“He used to write sometimes. To get me to come visit and see them again, but I never did.”

Alex knows what it’s like to lose somebody, but it doesn’t feel like the right time to bring up his mom, not now. Instead, he scoots a little closer and bumps Nym’s shoulder with his own. When Nym doesn’t look at him, he elbows him in the ribs. “I knew him. Your grandpa, I mean.”

Ben always looked so happy at festivals, his stuttering laugh used to fill up the whole beach. Alex never went out of his way to talk to him, but he always brought Evelyn and George some less sugary snacks. “I think he missed you,” Alex says carefully, “but he was never lonely if that’s what you’re worried about. He never really came to these things alone.” He says it so quiet that he wonders if Nym even heard him, if the ocean swallowed up his words.

“That’s surprisingly wise.”

“Coming from me?”

“Coming from anyone. You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

Alex snorts, his chest tight. “I’m not, but thanks.”

Nym opens his mouth to argue, but Lewis announces the candle-boat will be released in just a few moments. Everybody knows the drill now, and the candles scattered on the dock are blown out one by one. Alex blows his out last, plunging the beach into darkness. The candle-boat slowly drifts out to sea until it’s just a speck. It’s quiet. The dark makes him feel particularly brave, like there's nobody else around.

“Hey, Nym?” Alex whispers, leaning to the left. Nym must have moved closer, too, because Alex’s forehead bumps the bill of his cap. He moves back a fraction of an inch. “I heard watching the jellies with someone is better. Wanna watch them with me?”

He feels warm fingers brush against the back of his hand and lets an equally warm hand wrap around his own. Instinctively, Alex hooks his thumb over Nym’s fingers and squeezes. A thrill travels up his arm when Nym squeezes, too. His tongue feels swollen, and Alex is grateful he doesn’t have to say anything, not that he could even if he did.

The thirteenth time Alex sees the jellies has to be his favorite.

**Day 16 of Fall, Tuesday**

Music crackles over the ancient speakers, mingling with the smell of burgers and popcorn in the crisp autumn air. There are some clouds in the sky, but no threat of rain. Alex spends the day bouncing from stall to stall with Haley, posing for pictures and complaining when she takes candids. The have one-hundred-and-twelve star tokens between the two of them before Alex decides they should break for lunch.

“This is why you never get anything good at the prize booth,” Haley says, grabbing some lettuce for her burger. 

Alex piles both of his burgers high with every condiment and topping available, then helps himself to a heaping spoonful of potato salad. “We still have time.”

“You have maybe three hours. Ninety of these tokens belong to me.” She gets a basket of fries and two Joja Colas before walking towards the river. She keeps glancing over her shoulder, like she suspects Alex isn’t following her, so he speeds up to walk next to her. He snatches a fry from her, and she tries to kick him because her hands are full. They pick a spot near the bridge, far enough away that no rowdy tourists can kick dirt on their plates.

Haley starts talking about plans to go to Zuzu City to do some holiday shopping - because you can never start too early - and she wants to look at some accessories for her camera. Emily wants a particular dye, and she wants to get Evelyn a new set of pots. She needs to get some more film before the Spirit’s Eve festival, and she knows she doesn’t have time to go later. Alex only half listens while he eats. He wants to hit the slingshot booth again, and Haley will want to see the fortune teller in the graveyard. Penny and Sam are giggling by a lamppost, and Sebastian and Abigail are spinning the wheel in the courtyard, which blocks the view of the grange displays by Pierre’s.

A sharp pain flares at his earlobe, and for a moment Alex thinks he’s been stung by a bee.

“Are you even listening to me?” Haley huffs, perfectly manicured fingers poised to flick him again. “First you avoid me half of summer, then you ditch me at the jellie festival, and now you’re ignoring me?” Alex ducks his head when she flicks at him again. Haley settles for slapping his bicep a few times before finally settling down, though she still looks ready to pounce on him again. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Me? You just attacked me!” Alex argues. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Haley sneers at him. “You ditched me for that farmboy. And you keep ignoring me every time we hang out. Like now.”

Alex lifts his hands up defensively, palms facing her. “Haley. Seriously. I’m not.”

“You always jump on the chance to go into the city with me, and now you don’t even care.”

He feels defensive all of a sudden, like he has to justify himself to his best friend. He wants to tell her to shut up, that the world doesn’t revolve around her, but he doesn’t. He thinks she’s right - not about ignoring her because he hasn't been doing that, not on purpose. Things have been different lately, and Alex can’t figure out why, can't find the words to explain it. He looks at her helplessly, and she softens a bit, forehead wrinkling with concern.

“What’s been going on, Alex? Talk to me.”

Alex knits his eyebrows together and folds his empty plate in half, avoiding eye contact. “Nothing’s been going on,” he says. It's not a lie, but it feels like one, burning a hole on his tongue. “I think that’s the problem.”

“What does that even mean?”

He feels stuck is what it means. He feels like he’s trapped in the bubble of Pelican Town and he can’t get out. He feels like every day is the same, that he’s stuck in a never-ending loop, like he can tell you what he's going to do three weeks from now because it's the same thing he does every week. If something doesn’t change now, then nothing will ever change, and he’s doomed to be just Alex from Stardew Valley. Nobody seems to understand why it’s so important he leaves this place, why he has to go pro, why he needs to believe it’ll happen. He doesn’t think his father was right about him being worthless, he thinks he’s turning into him, and that’s worse.

Haley throws her arms around him, and Alex realizes he’s crying. He’s never really talked about this with her, or at least he’s never felt this much crushing self-doubt to need to. It makes him feel even worse, so he screws his eyes shut and buries his face in her hair.

“You’re such a downer,” she says softly. “If you don’t stop crying, then I’ll cry, and we’ll both look terrible.”

“Sorry,” Alex croaks. She keeps hugging him until he stops shaking, and then she keeps hugging him until complains her hair is sticking to his face and tickling his nose. When she pulls away, she dabs delicately at her eyes. Alex wipes his face on the sleeve of his jacket and sniffles. “I haven’t been trying to ditch you,” he says. His voice sounds weird and stuffy.

"If you'd just said something earlier-" She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have brought it up like that. Nym is...”

Alex shrugs. “We’re just friends.” He doesn’t know why his brain chose those words in that order. He tries again. “We’re just hanging out, I mean. He’s different.”

Haley raises her eyebrows and says, “Different?”

“I don’t know. Different from everybody else here. New. Like, I don’t know everything about him because neither does everybody else.” His cheeks prickle like he’s going to cry again, so he blinks a few times until it goes away.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Haley says in a way that suggests it’s not nothing. She seems to know this, and adds, “Lewis should be announcing the results of that grange thing. It’s fine if you want to go hang out with Nym or whatever.”

“I can just find out later.”

Haley smiles. “Oh, just go already. I’m going to go see the fortune teller and meet up with Emily. You get boing after a couple hours, anyways.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, and if you don’t leave, I will.”

Alex gets to his feet and waves goodbye stiffly before making his way towards the displays. He weaves through the crowd, trying not to look too eager. He feels nervous again, and regrets his choice in condiments when his stomach starts swishing unpleasantly. The displays are already being dismantled, and Pierre is looking particularly smug which means he probably won. Again.

He saunters up to Nym’s display as casually as he can and asks, “So how’d you do, Farmboy?”

“Hey, Alex! I was hoping I’d see you,” he says. “Your favorite farmer just got second place. Not too shabby for a rookie, right?” He glances around. “Where’s Haley?”

“She ditched me.”

“Really?”

“No, but she has other plans, so it’s fine.” Alex freezes. “Oh, crap. She has my tokens.”

“You can have mine,” Nym offers.

“I’d rather earn my tokens, thanks.”

“Carry this box for me, and you can have them.” Nym carefully places a jar of honey in his crate so it won’t knock against the jelly or squish his green beans. Alex does as he’s told even though his arms feel like jelly from swinging the hammer at the Smashing Stone all morning.

They stop at the prize booth and get a lame fedora because it’s the only thing they have enough tokens for. It crushes his hair when Nym pulls it on his head, and he’s sure he looks terrible because Nym snickers every time he glances at him while they walk down the dirt path to his home.

**Day 20 of Fall, Saturday**

This is the plan: Train hard every day. Go to the Tunnelers’ spring tryouts. Get on the roster. Move to Zuzu City. Train harder every day. Bring the Tunnelers to the championships. Use the money to fix up his grandparents’ house. Train harder. Stay on the team. Train harder.

There’s no room for deviations. He doesn’t have time for breaks. He can’t afford to get distracted. Everything is built on a routine, and if he breaks from that to indulge in things just because they’re new, it’ll all be for nothing.

He can’t have these types of feelings.

He can’t waste his time on electric touches and dizzying thoughts. He can’t waste his only chance to get out of Pelican Town. He can’t leech off his grandparents. They deserve so much more than they have, and he’s not going to lose another person before he can pay them back.

He can’t disappoint the only people he has left.

He can’t have these types of feelings for another guy.

He can’t.

Alex drops his weights on the tile floor and sits up so fast he gets a headrush. His hair sticks to his forehead. The heater kicks on, a low, rumbling sound that echoes throughout the spa. The clock reads 12:18. It hasn’t even been an hour and he’s exhausted. He buries his face in his hands and digs his thumbs into his temples, trying to make the pounding stop.

He never felt like he was missing out on anything. It never mattered before, just like it never mattered that he’s never gone sailing or been to a fancy restaurant. Feelings pass like pains pass, and Alex is used to slapping on a band-aid and pushing through. He’s gotten good at turning pain into motivation.

But the problem with Nym is that it doesn’t hurt, not the way everything else does.

He’s been ignoring this dull ache since he met him. He figured if he could make it hurt anywhere else - his arms, his legs, his stomach - then the ache would go away. When that didn’t work, he figured it just needed to be worked and stretched. He let Nym in and it was good, like that first stretch after spraining your ankle. It was enough at first, or maybe it wasn’t. Alex doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t know what he wants.

No, that’s not true.

“Alex?”

He looks up at the sound of his name, and of course Nym is standing in front of him, looking worried and a little exhausted too. “Hey,” Alex says, straightening up. “Did you want the bench?”

“No, I was just going to soak in the spring,” but he doesn’t make a move to leave. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, but then he adds, “Well, no. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“I’ve got time.” Nym steps into the tiny weight room, flip-flops slapping against his feet with every step. He sits on the bench next to Alex, and he turns around so their shoulders are touching, like they were when they saw the jellies. He keeps his hands folded between his legs. “So what’s up, Alex?”

His thoughts feel scattered, so he says the first thing he can grasp. “Sorry if I’ve been a jerk to you.”

“What?”

“I think I’ve been kind of rude about the whole going pro thing. I don’t think I’m really cut out for it, so sorry if I was annoying or whatever. Seems really childish when I think about it now.”

Alex bites his tongue and swallows the acid that’s rising in his throat. The ache in his chest is burning, expanding bigger and bigger, pressing against his sternum. He doesn’t want to cry again, though he’s pretty sure Nym wouldn’t think less of him if he did. Nym puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “You’re a little annoying, but it’s charming.”

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously. You’re just, I mean. Like, you found your thing, right? Not many people can say that. I don’t have a thing.”

“You’re a farmer.”

“I inherited a farm when I was looking for any excuse to get out of a soul-sucking corporate job,” Nym corrects. He pulls on Alex’s shoulder until he turns to look at him. He looks serious. Alex swallows audibly, and Nym says, “I’m still counting on you for an endorsement, so don’t give up.”

Alex blinks. Then he smiles. Then he laughs. He feels energized, and Nym’s eyes are shiny and alert. He looks like he’s expecting something else, too, but doesn’t push it any further. Alex feels like there’s something else he wants to say, but it’s just out of reach.

**Day 27 of Fall, Saturday**

“Did you hear that?”

“It’s a bush, Nym. The leaves are going to rustle.”

Alex doesn’t know why they’re both whispering, why they’re bothering to stay so quiet when the nine-foot tall hedges snuff out everything. They can’t hear the music in the town square. They can’t hear the town laughing. They can’t even hear the other people in the maze. The moon is full above them, bathing them in the faintest hint of light. A hint of smoke is in the air, from the candles that don’t burn hot.

Nym has been glued to his side all night, despite boasting about his amazing sense of direction courtesy of growing up in a city - which is in no way a maze by the way. It’s on a grid. Nym couldn’t get lost there if he wanted to.

Left, right, left, left, dead end, circle back, right, right…

“And another dead end,” Nym says.

“I told you I wasn’t good at this,” Alex laughs, resisting the urge to rag on himself. He’s never finished the maze before, but neither have Harvey or Maru or Demetrius, and they’re all geniuses.

Nym startles and grabs Alex’s elbow for the seventh time - not that he’s counting - and whispers harshly. “Okay, you heard that right? That rattling?”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“Alex, I’m serious,” Nym huffs. “Listen.”

So Alex listens, strains his ears as hard as he can to hear something that isn’t there. Nym is still gripping his arm like a vice grip. Alex thinks he’ll have bruises later, but he doesn’t mind. “Wait,” he whispers, glancing over his shoulder. “I think I hear something, actually.”

“I told you-”

Alex shushes him, and when Nym tries to say something else, Alex slaps a hand over his mouth and shushes him again. When Nym blinks, his eyelashes flutter against Alex’s thumb. The ghost of an exhaled breath is warm on his palm. He never noticed how soft Nym’s cheeks are, wonders if he even has to shave.

“Do you hear it?” Alex asks, leaning in closer.

Nym shakes his head.

“Listen just a little harder.”

Again Nym shakes his head.

“That’s because I made it up,” Alex laughs, snatching his hand away from Nym’s face before he gets the chance to bite him. Even in the low light, he can see how tightly Nym’s face in bunched up, feels the icy hot stab of a glare directed at him. Nym stalks off without saying a word, arms crossed tightly, shoulders hunched, and spine rigid. He’s walking as fast as he can without running, but Alex’s legs are longer, so he has no problem keeping up. Right, right, left, right.

“Dead end.”

“I see that,” Nym deadpans.

Alex shoves his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling cold. He digs his thumbnails into his pointer fingers. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk,” he says, and he means it even though he feels like a jerk right now.

“Okay.”

Cheesy things like this don’t scare Alex. They never have. He’s not scared of spiders or flickering TVs or bubbling cauldrons because, well, none of it is all that scary. It’s just special effects and props. The only reason anyone gets scared is because their mind does seventy-five percent of the work, makes them hear things when it’s quiet, see things when it’s dark.

But he knows the giggle he hears is not his mind playing tricks on him. He spins on his heel, glances around, and asks, “What was that?”

“Oh, please. I’m not dumb enough to fall for that again, Alex.”

Alex rolls his eyes and squints into the darkness, carefully walking backwards towards Nym. “I heard something, I swear.”

“You sure it wasn’t just the leaves?”

“Okay, you can drop the attitude for a few seconds, Nym. I’d appreciate it.” He bumps into him, and they both jump. He must sound serious because Nym grips his elbow again and lets himself be crowded into the hedge. They’re both straining their senses, trying to pick up on anything strange. Alex thinks he hears another giggle, but he can’t quite place where it is.

Three things happen all at once: something grips Alex by the collar of his jacket and yanks him backwards; his knees give out; and there’s a series of blinding flashes followed by high-pitched, shrieking laughter.

Alex wants to scream, but no sound comes out, which is only more terrifying. He can’t see anything, and he’s pressed so far into the hedges that branches are poking and scratching him. His heart is racing, and he feels his pulse everywhere from the tips of his toes to the throb in his neck. His ears are ringing, and all he can think about is how he probably landed on Nym and crushed him to death.

That all happens in the space of about a minute and a half, and when Alex gets his vision back, he sees Haley standing over him, camera strapped around her neck. Nym is on his knees, one hand on Alex’s shoulder, the other on his chest. They’re both laughing, though Nym is at least trying to stifle it.

Oh.

He’s been tricked.

“I hate both of you,” Alex says when his voice comes back. He tries to push himself up, but his arms are so jittery from the adrenaline that he has to rock forward. Nym keeps him balanced, which is the least he can do, Alex thinks. He brings a hand to his chest, but Nym’s hand is still there. He crushes it - not too hard - against him, just enough to feel the pressure.

Haley says something he can’t make out because his ears are still ringing, but he watches her turn the corner and he’s left alone with Nym. “I’m sorry,” he hears Nym say, voice laced with amusement. “She asked me if I’d help, and I couldn’t resist. I didn’t know you’d get so scared. Haley was sure you’d see right through me.”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like a jerk.”

Alex blinks. He takes breath. “You mean you weren’t scared at all?”

“Of cheesy cauldrons and jack-o-lanterns? Please.” Nym blows a raspberry and waves the hand not clasped to Alex’s chest. “I grew up with the haunted houses in Zuzu City. One year I got drenched in fake blood. It was awesome.”

“Of course you did.”

“You aren’t mad, right?”

“No.” And he isn’t mad. He just feels dumb for being tricked, and conceited for thinking Nym actually needed him. The guy carries around an honest to Yoba sword and spends all his spare time in the mines. He doesn’t need protection.

It’s quiet. Stars twinkle in the inky black sky above them. The moon is full. It’s a mild night, even though it’s the end of fall. Alex can feel the blood pumping through his veins, heartbeat slowing to a steady thrum in his chest. Nym’s hand is warm, not hot or searing or anything extreme - just warm - and he can feel his heartbeat, too, when he moves his thumb just so.

He thinks about Nym’s laugh and his dimples and how good it feels to touch him. He’s thought about this before, a lot actually, even when Nym isn’t right in front of him like this. Alex doesn’t like to think. It makes his chest feel tight and his stomach do flips and always leaves him with questions.

Nym’s hand stays over his heart when Alex moves his and places it on his shoulder. Or, at least that's what he was aiming for. Instead, it slides to the back of his neck, and he curls a strand of Nym’s hair around his finger. He shudders, so Alex tugs him closer. He tips his head up without thinking, and their mouths collide before he closes his eyes.

Neither of them pull away, so Alex really kisses him, and Nym kisses back. He fists his hand into his t-shirt, and Alex squeezes the scruff of his neck just enough that Nym gasps. His breath is hot, and something in Alex melts and sticks to his ribs. Nym’s tongue glides along the seam of his mouth, and then it’s in his mouth, and then it’s winding with his own tongue.

Alex’s lungs burn, and he feels dizzy. It shouldn’t be so hard to pull away, but it is. He blinks his eyes open and touches his fingers to his lips, which are still tingling like every other nerve in his body.

“That was okay, right?”

Nym laughs, a low rumble deep in his throat. “I think we need to do it a few more times,” he says, leaning in close enough Alex can feel his breath. “Just to be sure.”

They stay in the maze for another hour, though they would have found the exit earlier if Nym wasn’t stopping him at every turn for another kiss. Haley snaps their picture when they get in the light, and Alex wonders if his mouth is just as swollen and red as Nym’s.

**Day 18 of Winter, Thursday**

The flurry of snow Kozu 5 promised turned into an unexpected blizzard in a matter of hours, not that Alex and Nym notice until it’s too late. Evelyn calls around four, just to make sure they’re inside and not traipsing around the mines or stuck in the cold, and at five the power flickers off and comes back on when the backup generator kicks on. Nym already has a fire going, but has to go to the porch for a night’s worth of firewood. Alex insists on helping, and together they only have to make one trip.

Nym heats up soup, and Alex collects as many blankets he can find so they can eat in front of the fireplace. There’s a TV in Nym’s room, but the only thing on is reruns of _The Queen of Sauce._ He wishes there was a movie or something, but at least it’s not the weather.

The soup is creamy and filled with potatoes and corn. Alex eats a whole bowl, and then he eats another, and he’s considering a third, but the rest of Nym’s house is cold. He steals bits from Nym’s bowl. His smile says he’s letting Alex do it. Eventually, he surrenders the rest of his food and wraps himself in another quilt.

Alex isn't even trying to watch the Queen. He thinks she's making a blueberry tart? Or maybe some ice cream? Something Nym likes because he keeps flicking his tongue out like a lizard.

He sticks a finger in the pit on Nym’s cheek, who predictably flails away. He narrows his eyes at Alex, but there's no venom. He resituates himself, folds his legs and tucks them under Alex’s crossed ones, and presses his left thumb into the cleft of Alex’s chin.

“You’re getting a little scruffy,” he says after a moment.

“I don’t shave in the winter.”

“I like it.”

“Don't get used to it.”

The fire burns hot against their backs, and Nym’s hands are refreshingly cold when he cups Alex’s face. His touch is feather light, and his calluses catch against prickly stubble. His face is soft, relaxed, like he if he closes those half-lidded eyes, he won’t open them again.

Alex turns his head slightly and presses his mouth to Nym’s palm, right where his thumb is mounted. It's barely a kiss, but Nym twitches all the same. He doesn’t quite go rigid, but he’s more tense, expecting. He lay his hand on top of Nym’s and threads his fingers between the gaps when he kisses his wrist.

“You sure you don’t want to grow it out?” Nym breathes.

Alex hums and leans forward, stabilizing himself with a hand on Nym’s thigh. The blanket falls off his shoulders, but he doesn’t feel cold at all. He scrubs his stubble-rough cheek against Nym’s smooth one, and snickers when Nym squeaks. “On second thought, I might keep it.”

Nym’s laugh comes in hot puffs, and Alex presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You could just…” He trails off to kiss Alex fully, smile still tugging at his lips. His mind goes pleasantly blank, and waves of warmth ripple all the way to his toes. Nym tilts his head, kisses just a little bit harder, and pulls away. He touches their foreheads together and softly says, “You’re getting better at this, you know.”

“I’ve been getting in a lot of practice.”

Nym unwinds their hands and loops them around Alex’s neck. Alex doesn’t know what to do with his, so he puts them on either side of Nym’s waist and kisses him again, more insistently until that’s all he can think about.

More pressure. More heat. More everything.

And then Nym is on his back, and Alex is on his side next to him, propped up on one elbow in a nest of blankets that smell like lavender and dust. Nym keeps touching him everywhere, snakes a hand under his shirt and follows the lines of muscle up and down before settling on the band of his jeans. Alex does his best imitation of it, over the clothes. There’s a moment of hesitation, and they both go still.

“Is it okay if I-?”

“-yes,” Alex says before Nym can even finish the question.

Later, Nym will tuck himself against Alex’s side, and Alex will think he fits there perfectly even though his arm goes numb and his hair tickles his nose. Later, Nym will drool on him and Alex won’t care that much. One side of his face will be covered in red creases and he’ll smell bad, and Alex will think this is the best he’s ever looked. This is how Alex knows he’s in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be a year 2; there's more I want to do with them. Let me know what you think!


	2. Year 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically something I wish happened before marrying Alex because sometimes it feels like he stone cold gave up his dreams to get married to the farmer. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Day 14 of Spring, Sunday**

For a split second every morning, Alex thinks he could get used to this whole domestic thing if it means starting the day with a serving of bacon and hashbrowns. But then he remembers Nym doesn’t wake up until ten, which means it’s almost eleven when he starts breakfast, and Alex can’t keep sleeping in so late. Tryouts are mid-summer, and Alex has a tediously planned workout schedule to adhere to.

“Good morning!” Nym sing-songs when Alex finally leaves the bedroom. He doesn’t miss the appreciative glace Nym throws his way before he pulls on his shirt, and maybe he flexes just a bit to tease him.

“Barely, but good morning to you, too,” he says, glancing at the clock that almost reads noon.

“Breakfast-”

“-brunch.”

 _“Breakfast_ is almost ready if you want some.”

There’s sausage instead of bacon, the hashbrowns look crispy, and the pancakes have chocolate chips in them. There’s a few painted hard-boiled eggs from the Egg Festival on the counter, and the pile of broken shells tells Alex that Nym has been snacking. Everything smells amazing, but...

“I have to meet Haley in, like, forty minutes, so I’ve got to swing back home to shower and get some real clothes.” He does grab a sausage link though, because skipping breakfast - well, brunch - doesn’t need to become a habit, too. “You sure you don’t want to go to the city with us?”

“Oh, I mean, you know I’d love to...”

“But you still think she doesn’t like you.”

“The Spirit’s Eve prank will only take me so far, Alex.”

“C’mon, Nym. Please?” He drapes himself on Nym and hooks his chin on his shoulder, careful not to lean too heavily. One year on a farm may have started to firm him up, but Alex sincerely doubts Nym can support his weight. “I really want you to come, and Haley really won’t care.”

“Not caring and wanting me there are two totally different things,” Nym points out. He cranes his neck and kisses the bridge of Alex’s nose. “I have to give my strawberries some serious attention, and you, sir, are a terrible distraction.”

“I’m the distraction? Speak for yourself there, dude.”

“Dude,” Nym repeats.

Alex snickers and kisses Nym’s cheek, and then he kisses the corner of his mouth, and then they’re kissing each other and Alex thinks if Nym was any taller, this would be uncomfortable, but he isn’t so it’s perfect. Well, almost perfect. Toothpaste and egg is not the best flavor combination as it turns out.

When they pull apart, Nym says, “See? Distraction.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll get out of your hair.” Alex very reluctantly peels himself away from Nym and pulls on his tennis shoes by the front door. He borrows one of Nym’s hats, too, because his hair is a mess.  “I’ll see you later, right?”

“I sure hope so.”

Keith is snoozing on the porch, and Alex gives his head a few pats before racing home, careful not to trample any newly sprouted wildflowers. Evelyn has already started doing laundry for the day, so the water is freezing when he jumps in the shower. He doesn’t have time to gel his hair, so he gets dressed, gives his hair another toweling, and tucks it under the cap he’s borrowing on his way out the door.

“Now you’re accessorizing like him, too? Really, Alex?” Haley laughs when he gets to the bus stop, red-faced and out of breath. “Yoba, you are absolutely hopeless.”

**Day 24 of Spring, Wednesday**

The Flower Dance is about celebrating the new life and fertility that spring brings after a long, harsh winter. There’s dancing and singing and lots of food to usher in a wet summer and a bountiful fall. They wear white and thank Yoba for granting them with new life and giving them the ability to nurture that life into something even better.

“It’s all a metaphor for sex, obviously,” Alex says matter-of-factly. He bumps his elbow into Nym’s and pops a cube of cheese into his mouth. They’re both propped against the fence in the back corner of the festival, away from all the commotion and the crowd of people around the buffet. There’s a slight breeze that rustles the plant life surrounding the area, showering them in pink petals that never seem to land on the spread of food.

“Oh, sure, yeah. Sex is just like this. Outdoors, tons of flowers, Mayor Lewis is there…”

“I said it's a metaphor, not a step-by-step guide.”

“You sound so well-read when you say that. Dabbling in poetry, are you?” Nym snickers. “If any of that were true - and I absolutely know you’re just yanking my chain here - I would’ve celebrated it earlier.”

“Honest to Yoba, that’s what it’s about.”

Nym didn’t come to the dance last year, and the more Alex prods him about it, the less he thinks it’s because he was just busy. It took all week to convince him to come this year. They arrived later than anybody else, and Nym has very carefully avoided talking to anyone but Alex for the past two hours.

“You’re really not going to dance?”

“I’m not dressed for it,” Nym says weakly, keeping his gaze forward, avoiding eye contact. He brings their shared punch cup to his mouth and frowns when he finds it empty.

Alex scrunches up his face. “Do you not want to dance with me specifically?”

“Do I...what? No. That’s not even - why?” Nym sputters. “Why would you even think that?”

“You keep giving me weak excuses like you’re trying to spare my feelings or something.” Alex crosses his arms. He’s not mad or anything. He just feels uncomfortable. “I don't know.”

Nym doesn't quite snap, but he sounds frustrated when he says, “For the love of Yoba, it’s not anything like that.”

They’re navigating this whole relationship thing, being open and honest and all that. Well, navigating isn't the word for it. It's more like they're on an inflatable raft in the middle of the Gem Sea, and Nym has only enough expertise over him to confirm that fish live in there. Only it's a lot more fun.

“I just, I can’t dance.” And that sounds like another weak answer, so Nym adds, “I mean it. I’m terrible, and I’d throw the whole thing off.”

And Alex doesn’t think before blurting, “So what?”

Nym gives him an exasperated look that screams, _Of course you’d say that,_ and shakes his head. “No, see. I caught a bit of the dance last year, and you guys were, like, pros. You've been doing it for years. I’d stick out like a sore thumb, and it’d be awful.”

Unlike his grandfather, Nym gets anxious at festivals, like he’s going to be packed up and shipped back to Zuzu City if he slips up or does something people won’t like. It explains why Nym has yet to make any other friends in town, but it’s such a switch from how he is when it’s just him and Alex. Sometimes it feels like there's two different Nyms.

“I didn’t even notice you last year.”

“So much for love at first sight.”

“No, shut up for a second, dummy,” Alex laughs, slinging his arm over Nym’s shoulders. “I just mean nobody cares as much as you think they do, not even me.”

“Everyone always says that.”

“I thought you left Zuzu City because everything was the same there. Like, I’m not saying Pelican Town has a routine, but we could use a bit of different, too.”

“You _really_ want me to dance.”

“I really really _really_ want to dance with you.”

“You're going to have to tell Haley I stole her dance partner.”

“Deal.”

Haley insists everyone switch partners, half so she can dance, too, and half because Alex asked her to help make this dance different from all the rest. Shane dips out immediately, the rest of the dancers scramble, and Haley ends up with Maru as a partner. Nym isn't a great dancer, but he’s not terrible. It’s fun, everybody claps, and both of them are breathless when the music stops. Alex resists the urge to kiss him.

**Day 13 of Summer, Saturday**

The last birthday Alex spent with his mom, he was turning twelve. She couldn’t throw him a party or even take him to the park, so they ate cake for breakfast and had breakfast for dinner in a blanket fort built with Alex’s favorite sheets and the couch cushions. They watched cartoons all day. His mom let him do everything his father didn’t, just because they could and he wasn’t around to say anything about it. Alex thinks she knew she didn’t have much time left.

After that, Evelyn and George took over the whole birthday thing. They stopped offering to throw him parties when he turned fifteen. A stack of pancakes and a simple acknowledgement is enough for him. Evelyn makes him a cake, too, because it’s not a birthday without cake.

Breakfast today is continental - whatever that means. From the buffet, Alex gets a banana, yogurt, two waffles smothered in artificial syrup, some limp bacon, and orange juice concentrate. He eats by himself and listens to the chatter that fills the tiny dining room, filled with other aspiring gridball players like himself, chat about their plans for the day. His grandparents called last night, after he’d finished checking in and wished him happy birthday then. Nobody here knows who he is, or that it’s his birthday, and none of them probably care. He didn’t realize how lonely he’d feel by himself.

The closest he gets to acknowledgement is signing the waiver at registration. The attendant glances at his ID, stamps his papers, and says, “This is an all-weekend event. Try not to be hungover tomorrow if you plan on celebrating.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Next.”

There’s about fifty other men and women, some bigger than Alex and others smaller, though most are about his height and build. By the end of the day, half of them will be sent home. They start with a timed run to warm up, and then they run endurance drills in groups of four overseen by assistant coaches. Alex is proud of his numbers, though a woman named Sully does better than him.

Passing exercises and tackle drills are grueling, but Alex doesn’t fumble or misstep once. They do drop push-ups for no other reason other than the fact the coach wants them to. He’s fine for the first fifty, but everything after that bleeds together as he tries not to collapse. They run endurance drills again at the end, and everybody’s numbers are worse, but Alex is first in his group this time.

They’re dismissed at noon. He’s dirty, sweaty, and exhausted, but Sully and two guys flag him down. They exchange names and compliments and spend at least twenty minutes just talking about stats and trading routine and diet advice. It’s awesome. Alex can’t stop smiling even though his legs threaten to give out on their walk to the locker room.

He’s invited to dinner, which turns into birthday dinner when Alex mentions it. About thirty people wish him happy birthday before he even finishes toweling off, which is a first for him.

He still smells terrible when he gets back to the hotel, so he ignores the call of the mattress to shower again. It takes a minute to figure out the faucets and turn off the side jets, but eventually he gets the water hot enough to melt the soreness out of his muscles. For the first time in years, Alex doesn’t have to bend over to wash his hair. He doesn’t run out of hot water either, so he stays until his fingers get pruney and the whole bathroom is full of steam.

This is what he could have if he makes the team. Not the shower specifically, but this whole day. He could do what he loves, train with experts and coaches, spend time with people that think the way he thinks and make him feel smart, and live in a place where nothing needs to be jimmied a certain way to work.

He nailed tryouts today. All his passes were on target, he ran drills perfectly, and even the other hopefuls seemed impressed by everything he did. There’s no way the coaches don’t have him on their minds tonight, and he’s almost certain they’re going to ride him harder tomorrow just to make sure he’s not a fluke.

It doesn’t feel as good as he thought it would. He thought he’d feel different, less hollow and more proud of himself.

Alex orders a meat-lovers pizza for lunch, eats half of it, and calls Nym around five thirty. He sounds different when he greets him, unnaturally peppy. “It’s a side effect,” Nym explains sheepishly. “You work in a call center for five years and not develop a customer service voice. How did tryouts go?”

“Fine. Better than fine, actually. I think the coaches liked me.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re very likable. Did you wink like I told you?”

“No, but I kicked dirt in my eye, and my drill partner probably thought I was winking at her.”

“So graceful.”

Alex hears the click of the stove as Nym flips off a burner followed by the scrape of glass against glass as he grabs a plate or a bowl. He must look hilarious trying to do everything one-handed.

Alex twists the cord around his finger and tries to find patterns in the popcorn ceiling above him. “I miss you,” he says, finally. There's an ache in his chest that wasn't there before.

The receiver pops when Nym laughs. “Already?”

Even though they can’t see each other, he nods. “Yeah. Is that dumb?”

“No. I’m incredibly special. You’re right to miss me.”

They both laugh, and then they both fall silent, listening to one another’s breathing even out.

“I miss you, too, Alex.”

They’ll have to get used to missing each other if he makes the team. They won’t be able to do anything the way they do now. It sucks, and it kind of hurts a bit, too. Alex thinks they both know this, so he doesn’t say anything.

“Everyone else misses you, too. I think Haley is mad you went to Zuzu City without her.”

“You hung out?”

“Briefly.”

“I told you she liked you.”

“‘Like’ is such a strong word. ‘Tolerate’ might be more accurate. There was cake involved.”

Alex sits up. “Wait. You celebrated my birthday without me?”

“Again, ‘celebrate’ is such a strong word, Alex. It sucked. We were all depressed you weren’t here. Dusty stole the steak right off my plate.”

“Good. You didn’t deserve that steak.”

Nym makes a sound of mock offense. “Just for that, I’m not making you breakfast on Monday. I was gonna surprise you, but now you get nothing.”

“I’m only dating you for the breakfast, Nym. You can’t withhold breakfast.”

“Well, I’m only dating you for the dinner.”

“I’ve cooked for you once.”

“And it was the best burger of my life.”

It’s easy to talk to Nym like this, all the banter and jokes. He never considered himself to be particularly sad or serious or anything, but he thinks Nym makes him laugh more, deep belly laughs that make his ribs hurt and leave him gasping for air and brimming with more energy than he knows what to do with.

“Hey, so I have this dinner thing in an hour.”

“With Ms. Drill Partner that you winked at?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. But also a bunch of other people will be there.”

“Not sounding much better.”

“What? No, shut up. It’s just the other rookies. It's sort of a birthday celebration.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“I get in around eleven, so barely.”

“But still tomorrow.”

**Day 18 of Summer, Thursday**

The hardest part of packing is figuring out what stays behind and what comes with him to Zuzu City. Things that have made the cut are a few pairs of jeans, a handful of t-shirts, and a few tiny knick-knacks he's accumulated over the years. Most of it is Tunnelers merch Haley or his grandparents got him, like a bobble head with his high school number painted on the helmet. Things that are staying behind include his weights, books, and gridball.

He sits cross-legged on his bed, his mother’s music box in his lap. He wishes he could talk to her again, say ‘thank you,’ and just show her everything he’s learned since she died. She would have liked Nym, he thinks, and she would have liked how happy they make each other. She’d know how to handle this whole moving situation, too.

There's a soft knock on his door, and Evelyn steps into the room with a fresh set of bed sheets and some towels. “How goes packing?”

“Good,” he says even though it looks like a bomb exploded in his room. He wipes his nose on his sleeve. “Sorry for the mess, I’ll clean it up tonight.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She steps over a pile of books to the table his suitcase is balanced on. He’s tried packing it all twenty different ways, but he keeps stumbling upon more stuff he wants to take with him. She starts fishing things out of his bag to fold them more neatly. “Last day in Pelican Town,” she comments.

“This week got away from me a bit.” He runs his thumb over the floral carving on the top.

“Your mom was like that, too. Always getting caught up in the moment.”

“Yeah?”

“Impossible to tell what was going on in her head,” Evelyn says, and Alex thinks that’s her passive way of saying she knows he’s bottling something up.

He hasn’t told either of his grandparents about Nym, that they’re dating or whatever they’re calling it. He sure as hell hasn’t told them he likes guys, not that he thinks they’d care or anything, it’s just. Then he’d have to talk about Halloween and the fact he’s been spending nights at Rosewood Farm. It’s a conversation he isn’t ready to have yet.

“Hey, Grandma?”

“Hm?”

“What did Mom ever see in Dad? Did she ever say?”

“Oh, I suppose there was some charm in the beginning,” she says the way someone talks about a broken dishwasher. “He was exciting, traveled a lot, and had big dreams. Clara had big dreams, too. They were quite the team back in the day. He had the arm, but she was fast on her feet. Didn’t matter what the other team did, your parents could outplay anyone.”

Alex has seen the tapes, has studied them even. His mom was all strategy and grace on the field, could outrun anyone when defense did their job. And his dad, well, all he had to do was throw the ball and Clara would have it. It still gives Alex goosebumps to watch the final play of the season 41 championship.

“And they were happy for a while, right?”

“They were.”

“And they were gonna be pros.”

“They were.”

“And then I came along.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” The bed sinks to his right and Alex feels a hand on his back. “Your mother was so happy to bring you into this world. You changed everything for her.”

Alex shakes his head. “It’s just, she gave up all of that for me, and I never got to thank her for any of it because I was too busy hating my dad for not doing the same. I think about it all the time, and how I’m just like him. I can’t give up going pro for…” He doesn’t say the name. It gets stuck in his throat.

Evelyn pulls him into a hug and just holds him for a few moments. “You are so much like her, Alex,” she says, squeezing him a little tighter. “So caught up in your own head, you forget you can’t plan anything. You know what you wanted to be when you were a kid?”

“A gridball player.”

“No, sir. You didn’t want to play gridball until you were eight.” She pulls away enough to get her hands on his shoulders, and Alex can see tears caught in the creases of her face. “Before that you swore up and down that you were going to be an astronaut and a rocket engineer. You had star charts and everything before you started playing sports.”

“Oh. I don’t remember that.”

“And your mother, first she wanted to be a dancer, then she wanted to be a miner like Grandpa, then she wanted to paint, then she wanted to design board games of all things. She had only been playing gridball for three years when your father came along.”

“What’s the point to all this, Grandma?”

“The point, Alex, is that goals change, and people in your life might be the catalyst. It doesn’t mean it’s bad or that you’re giving up.”

“And if I pick gridball over...?”

“You aren’t going to turn into your father, Alex.” She taps him on the forehead suddenly, and then flicks a stray hair away. “You just need to stop spending so much time up here.”

“I think that’s the first time anyone’s told me I think too much.” He laughs half-heartedly and rubs the back of his neck. He thinks, _I could tell her about Nym now,_ but the words don’t want to come out. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He remembers he hasn’t told Nym he’s leaving tomorrow, that he’s been putting it off because he didn’t know what to do about them. It felt like he had to choose between Nym and his dream, but he thinks they could make this work. He kisses the top of Evelyn’s head and snatches his jacket off the back of a chair, carefully jumping over the mess in his room. He says goodbye, but he doesn’t wait for a response.

It’s Thursday. Nym fishes on Thursdays. The sun is starting to set, but Nym is a bit of a night owl and tends to stay out long after the other residents of Pelican Town are tucked in bed. Stars twinkle into view, and Alex swears he can feel the temperature dropping by the minute as he races to the beach.

He speeds up the dock where Nym is dozing, footsteps loud enough that he turns around and stands up. Alex crashes into him and nearly sends them into the ocean, but then Nym pivots his foot and they spin away from the edge. “I made the team,” Alex says into the juncture where Nym’s neck meets his shoulder. “I made the team, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Alex, that’s amazing!” Nym says. He tries to wriggle his arms free, but Alex has too tight a hold on him. “I knew you could do it.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Alex repeats. He pulls away, slides his hands to Nym’s biceps and just holds on loosely. The sky is a brilliant orange, and the ocean is a deep purple that matches the wisps of clouds racing each other in the distance. Stars blink into sky where black spills like ink towards the horizon. Alex cups Nym’s face with both hands. He’s warm and a little sunburned and wet with ocean spray. He dips his thumbs into his dimples and thinks nothing in the world is as beautiful as him.

“I’m really proud of you, Alex.”

Nym loops his arms around him when Alex leans forward. His eyes slide shut, and he tilts his head to the right without even thinking about it. It’s not exactly a rough kiss, but it’s not gentle either. A little desperate, maybe, like Alex can tell Nym how much he means to him without words. And then it all melts away, all the anxiety and doubt, and they kiss until everything just stops feeling so tight. The sun is down when Alex opens his eyes.

“I can’t ask you to come to Zuzu City with me,” he says softly.

Nym keeps his eyes shut. “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“I know.”

“This isn’t the part where you break up with me, right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Long distance is hard,” Nym whispers.

“You’re worth it.”

“So are you.”

They move off the dock and onto the sand to lay down and stargaze and talk. Alex tells Nym about his mom, how amazing she was and how much he wishes Nym could’ve met her. He finds Nym’s mom studies the ruins in Calico Desert with his father and he has a sister - a twin! - in Zuzu City who kind of already knows about Alex and is dying to meet him.

**Day 28 of Summer, Sunday**

It’s the first time in thirteen years Alex has missed the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies, and in a few days he’s going to miss Nym’s birthday, too. He tries not to think about it too much, but he feels like he’s missing so many important days this year, like he asked for those days off, but there’s always a scheduling conflict on a universal level. It sucks.

On top of that, he’s caught in an endless game of phone-tag with Nym. They planned to call each other every night, but Alex can’t stay up late anymore and Nym doesn’t get out of bed until he’s at practice. So then they started aiming for days off, but then Alex got roped into more practice with Sully and O’Neil. Then when Alex was free, Nym had to go to Calico Desert for more starfruit seeds.

They’re both busy today, too, but Nym said he’d call around nine thirty. Alex isn’t counting down the seconds or anything, but he’s going to go ballistic in about three minutes if his phone doesn’t ring. All he wants to do is talk to his boyfriend. Is that too much to ask?

Despite his frustration, he smiles at that. _Boyfriend._ As in they’re an actual _couple._

Alex snatches the phone off the hook before the first ring even finishes and says, “You cut that way too close.”

“Oh, hi, Alex. No, I’m fine, thanks for asking. It’s wonderful to hear your voice.”

“How was the desert?”

“Fine. My parents continue to be the nosiest people on the planet. Dad kept insisting my aura is pink, which is ridiculous because I am an even blue and always have been.”

“I don’t know what any of that means, but okay.”

“My dad is really into it. Colors have meanings.”

“Like a mood ring?”

“I mean, yeah. He can read you when you meet him.”

“Okay.”

“Enough about that. How’re you doing?”

“Sore, as usual, but it’s getting better. I got these new compression shorts the other day. I think you’d like them.”

“Babe, I know you are not trying to tease me over the phone right now.”

“Maybe just a little,” Alex laughs, cheeks burning at the pet name. “I want you to come visit next weekend. For my first game, if you aren’t too busy.”

“As if I was going to miss it. What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?”

“How long have we been playing phone-tag?”

“Half of that was your fault, too, but point taken.”

They’re quiet for a few moments, and this is the part of the call Alex hates, when they’re almost out of time and have to hang up on each other.

“You’re going to see the jellies, right?”

“I was thinking of skipping it. It’s better seeing the jellies with someone, y’know?”

“Nym, you never really go to those things alone.”

**Day 6 of Fall, Saturday**

“I should’ve dressed nicer,” Nym complains, unrolling his left sleeve so he can roll it back up again for the third time tonight. He's dressed in all black, jeans and v-neck ridiculously tight and button-up stylishly baggy. His trucker hat is gone, replaced with carefully tousled black waves that remind Alex of a superhero. Was this how he dressed before moving to Pelican Town?

“You look fine,” Alex says, though he traded out his track jacket for a black blazer and his dark shirt for a grey one. They’re both more dressed up than usual, though it’s hardly formal.

The restaurant is nicer than anything they have in Pelican Town, but it's still only a tier above a diner in Alex’s opinion. It's casual, which eases his nerves when they're seated at a booth. Alex orders steak, and Nym orders pasta. The waitress brings them a free basket of bread to start with and drinks.

Nym updates him on everything going on at home. He’s keeping busy for now, already prepping the chicken coop for winter. He’s restored the greenhouse even though he doesn’t know what to grow in it yet. Evelyn and George are insisting he eat dinner with them on Sundays, and Nym wouldn’t mind it if they didn’t insist he eat more every single time. When he smiles, he ducks his head and laughs into his shoulder.

Then it’s Alex’s turn. He talks about practice and the extra training. Having spotters and gym buddies means he can push himself more, and everything is just more intense. He was worried that playing gridball professionally would mean it would stop being fun, but it just makes the stakes that much higher. Alex likes the competition, and the coach says he likes the energy he brings to the team.

Nym says, “We’re all really proud of you.”

“You can say that after we win tomorrow.”

“Even if you lose, I’ll be proud of you.”

A voice in the back of his mind says that’s not true, not because he doubts Nym, but because he doesn’t think he deserves that kind of unconditional support. Worthless. Good-for-nothing. Stupid. He hasn’t accomplished anything yet, and he never will. This is what the voice tells him, words a slurred and angry mimicry of his father. Alex thought getting on the Tunnelers’ roster would quiet that voice, but instead it’s gotten louder, desperate to be heard.

Their food arrives, and the waitress refills their drinks before seating another table. Nym practically drools at the sight of his plate and reaches for the pepper. Alex carefully touches his hand before he can pull away, nearly knocks the shaker out of Nym’s hand, and asks, “Can I say something?”

“Sure.”

Alex isn’t good with words, has put off saying so many things he needed to say for when he found them. He doesn’t think he has them now, but he should at least try. Nym drops the shaker and lets Alex hold his hand fully, patiently waiting.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, surprised at how much weight melts off his shoulders when it’s out there. “It was confusing at first, liking you, I mean. I didn’t think I’d fall for a guy - or anyone, really - y’know?” He squeezes Nym’s hand. “I know we’re only an hour away from each other, but this distance thing is hard, Nym. I miss you like crazy all the time.”

Alex thinks if Nym hadn’t moved to Pelican Town last year, they never would have met. They’d pass each other on the streets of Zuzu City a million times and never know they were supposed to be together. Nym would still be stuck with Joja Corp and Alex would be alone, probably still be an arrogant jerk about his career. Alex doesn’t think he’d let himself fall in love with so many distractions. They met exactly when they were supposed to.

“I love you,” he says, out loud, for the first time. He wants to say it again and again and again, and he doesn’t care if Nym says it back because he loves him, wholly and as he is no matter how hard things are right now. “I love you, and I don’t know why it’s taken so long for me to say it.”

Nym runs a hand through his hair, eyebrows alternating between knitting together and touching his hairline. “I, wow,” he starts, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you’d say it, like, here-” he gestures towards nowhere in particular.

“Me neither. It was kind of spur of the moment. But also not? I’ve been wanting to say that for months.”

“That’s...Yoba, I didn’t say-” Nym straightens up. His face is red, and he’s smiling so wide his eyes are squinted almost shut. “I feel the same way, Alex. I love you, too.”

“Oh.” Alex brings a hand to his face and presses it into his burning cheek. “Oh, now I see why you’re so red. That's so embarrassing.”

Nym kicks him under the table. “Shut up and eat your steak, you goof.”

**Day 8 of Winter, Monday**

Alex does not remember winter in Pelican Town being this cold. Last year he wore shorts, and now he’s bundled up in two jackets, a hat, and mittens and he’s still shivering. Even Nym didn’t shiver this much his first winter here, and he lived in Zuzu City for years, though most of his winter was spent indoors or in the mines.

And it’s not like he didn’t try to talk Nym into spending the day indoors today. Well, less talk and more...pin him to the mattress so he couldn’t get up. Somehow he managed to slide from his grip, and Alex wasn’t going to spend the day in bed _without_ Nym. Really defeats the purpose. Reluctantly, he took a shower while Nym made breakfast, they ate, and then they made the trek to the forest.

“Alex is just mad he’ll always be a city boy,” Nym snickers to Haley, who is wearing a dress without leggings just to spite him. They all take a step back when Leah swipes at her sculpture with her electric carver and sprays them with chunks of ice. Most of it bounces off their boots harmlessly, though Leah shoots them an apologetic smile.

“You’ve lived on a farm for, what? A year a half?”

“A year and three-quarters. Practically two.”

“Yeah, I pull seniority. I lived here longer.”

“Sounds like something a city boy would say, I reckon,” Nym twangs.

“Just for that, I hope you lose in the fishing contest. I’m going to cheer for Willy.”

Nym narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe I’ll even enter the competition this year.”

“I’ve seen you fish, Mullner.” Nym says in his mock-competitive voice, chest puffed out and legs planted wide. Alex stoops down so they’re nose-to-nose. “You wouldn’t even place.”

Haley rolls her eyes. “You two are ridiculous.”

Nobody is paying attention to them except Haley, but Alex does a quick sweep just to be sure. Lewis is stepping on the ice, which means they’re about to start. He takes a breath and gives Nym a peck, just a quick touch of their lips before pulling away.  “For good luck,” he says. “Knock ‘em dead, babe.”

Nym pads off towards the ice, definitely slips as soon as his feet touch it, but catches himself before sliding into one of the fishing holes. He’s not the most graceful person Alex knows, but he is one entertaining guy to watch, that’s for sure. The competition itself isn’t that exciting to watch, but everybody cheers when someone starts reeling something in.

“Your face is red, Alex.”

“It’s cold out here, Haley.”

Haley rolls her eyes. “So Farmboy isn’t as despicable as I first thought.”

“Oh?”

“I think…” She brushes some snow off her skirt. “I think I was jealous of how much time he got to spend with you at first, and how you only ever wanted to talk about him. I thought I was being replaced.”

“Aw...Haley.” Alex pulls her into a one-armed hug. “You're my best friend. I could never replace you.”

“You absolutely could not,” she agrees. “But what I’m getting at is I see how happy he makes you, and I’m really happy you found each other.”

"Would you say you might actually...like him?"

She crosses her arms. "He'll never believe you if you tell him I said that."

"But you do like him though."

"I do like him."

The competition ends, and Nym reels in a fish at the last possible second that put him a singular point ahead of Willy - a huge improvement on his abysmal performance last year. He wins a hat, some tackle, and a small prize that he says is going right into some community projects that he wants to get done.

Evelyn and George invite Nym and Haley to their house after Robin and Leah finish their sculptures for a more intimate homecoming dinner for Alex while the rest of the town heads for the Saloon. Nym offers to help Evelyn prepare dinner while Alex and Haley rearrange the living room. When he goes into the kitchen for some extra chairs, he playfully reaches over him to pick an olive off the cutting board, making sure to lean on him as much as possible.

“Do that again and you’ll have a few less fingers to worry about,” Nym threatens.

Alex rests his chin on Nym’s shoulder and reaches for another olive. “You wouldn’t.”

Nym bats his hand away. “Don’t test me. Dinner is on the stove, so get out of here.”

“Stop torturing the boy boy, Alex,” Evelyn laughs, and Alex suddenly remembers where he is and who he’s around. He pulls away from Nym like he's been burned and grabs the last chair. His face feels flushed, and something heavy sinks in his gut. Haley and George are already settled and chatting when he steps into the room, and they’re quick to steer it to the Zuzu City Tunnelers so Alex can talk about himself for what has to be the hundredth time today.

Nym and Evelyn come in with a tray full of bowls halfway through Alex’s story about his first game. Nym makes sure Alex gets the green bowl and takes the seat next to him, mindful about the space between them. It’s only a few inches, but it feels like miles. They make eye contact, and they seem to understand each other because both of them say, “We’re together,” in unison.

Alex takes over after that and says - well, babbles, “For a year-ish not - wow. A year? I meant to tell you guys earlier, but things just got so busy, and then it didn’t feel right to do over the phone, and we just. A year goes by _really_ fast.”

There’s no, we’ve-always-knowns or we-love-you-anyways or any of that. No acceptance speeches of any kind actually. Evelyn says, “Congratulations, you two. You’re very sweet together.” Alex was sure George would at least pass a comment about Yoba or traditions or something, but all he says is, “Nym’s a good kid. I like him. Treat my grandson right.”

And this is...nowhere near as awkward as Alex thought it was going to be.

Huh.

Nym scoots closer to him so their legs touch. Nobody mentions it, but it doesn’t feel like anybody is actively trying to ignore it either. It just is.

They eat dinner, play a board game (that Nym totally cheated at, by the way), and eventually say their goodbyes. Haley ribs him about going home with his boyfriend - _boyfriend! -_ and that they need to stay honest, which Nym and Alex do their best to pretend they are in front of Alex’s grandparents. Alex knows neither of them are convincing actors. His grandma wraps him in another scarf before sending them away.

“So a year, huh?”

“-ish. I said ‘year-ish,’” Alex says.

“What’s the exact day you’re using as the year mark? I need to know if I’m a bad boyfriend and missed it. We’re not using Spirit’s Eve, right? Because that would be the cheesiest anniversary ever. Also then we’re both terrible because we both missed it.”

Alex shakes his head. “You’re babbling.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Honestly, I don’t really have a day in mind,” he says, looking up at the sky. It’s already dark, and the swirl of clouds tells him it’s going to snow within the next hour. He hates this weather even if the crunch of snow under his boots is satisfying. He misses the stars. “It feels like we danced around the whole relationship thing for so long that it wasn’t just a day, y’know? I think I loved you way before Spirit’s Eve, but - whoa!”

Nym stumbles and grabs an unsuspecting Alex for support. Considering he gets tackled by people twice the size of Nym on a regular basis, it should be embarrassing how easy he goes down. They both tumble into a snowdrift in a tangle of limbs. Alex tries not to drown in powder, but Nym is somehow on top of him, making it difficult to get on his stomach. After a little maneuvering, Alex manages to roll out from under Nym and out of the snow drift.

"Did you hit ice?"

“No. It's just, you say these things that make my heart stop sometimes, y'know?”

“So you trip me?”

“Sorry.”

Alex gets to his knees and wipes as much snow off his front as he can. Nym is still laying in the bank, staring at nothing in particular. Alex crawls toward him. “We should make today the year mark.”

“On a festival day? Absolutely not, that’s the worst. And I still smell like fish.”

“Tomorrow? We did do that thing last year…”

“The thing? Oh, I remember. Outdoors, flowers, Mayor Lewis was there…”

**Day 27 of Winter, Saturday**

His first night in the city, Alex slept soundly for the first time in years. One a.m. traffic and the flash of headlights never bothered him, a product of growing up in the city for the first half of his life. His first year in Pelican Town was restless until his grandparents got him an MP3 player and a pair of headphones.

It’s the quiet that keeps him up at night.

Times like these are when even his thoughts sleep, and Alex has nothing to do, nothing to fight or actively push away. The world at three a.m., where absolutely nothing moves at all, makes Alex uneasy, makes him feel entirely alone. Somehow that's worse. Or at least it used to be.

With all the commotion lately, the rigorous practice before the end of the season and preparation for the holidays, Alex thinks this is good. It's good to let things come to a stop every once in a while, even if it's in that weird part of the year between Winter Star celebrations and New Year’s where nobody has anything to do.

The clock reads three seventeen. The bed is soft and sleep-warm and smells like lavender soap. The blizzard that was roaring outside all day has finally stopped. The only thing that breaks the stillness is the occasional snuffle from Nym, who is curled on his right side, back towards Alex. “Mullner” fills the the space between his shoulder blades.

Alex splays his hand on the big “6,” his mother’s number in the only season she played professionally. He picked it to carry the torch, so to speak. Sometimes he feels like he doesn’t live up to it, but that just motivates him to work harder. He’s so proud of her, and he hopes she’s proud of him, too.

Nym shifts and rolls over to his other side, barely awake. He blinks a few times, and Alex thinks he mumbles an approximation of “hello,” albeit very slurred.

“Did I wake you up?” Alex asks.

“’m still sleeping,” Nym says, slinging an arm over his waist. Alex scoots closer and pulls the blankets tight, trapping in as much warmth as he can. Nym tucks his head under his chin. His breath tickles Alex’s throat.

“I think I want to marry you.”

Nym winds their legs together. The blunts of his bitten-down fingernails dig into Alex's side. “Just think?”

“I _know_ I want to marry you.”

“I want to marry you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chat with me about Alex over on [tumblr](pfaerie.tumblr.com)!


End file.
